


When Light Enters the Wound

by Floral_and_Fine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, No idea where this is going, reader has the ability to heal others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floral_and_Fine/pseuds/Floral_and_Fine
Summary: Title inspired by this quote: "The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”- RumiSummary: When The Hound is saved by brother Ray, he meets the woman who brought him back from the brink of death.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Reader, The Hound/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	When Light Enters the Wound

**Author's Note:**

> So I suddenly had the urge to write my first GOT fic, mostly because I'm thirsty for Sandor.

Cracking an eye open, Sandor was greeted by a heavenly sight, a lovely woman leaning over him as the sunlight shone upon her, resembling a divine glow. The sky above her was a brilliant blue and there was a gentle breeze that tickled his face. 

Sandor felt fingertips delicately skim across his cheek and neck, her touch was so light and feathery that it caused goosebumps to appear in its wake. 

Surely, he was hallucinating, his mind playing tricks on him as his body bled out, or perhaps it was a fever dream caused by infection. Either way, there was no way in hell any of this was real. 

Not able to keep his eyes open any longer, he allowed sleep to take him. Sandor would consider himself a lucky man if he died in his sleep dreaming about a beautiful woman he’s never met, it was far better than the alternative, to continue rotting slowly on this godforsaken hill. 

But when had he ever been lucky?

…

Sandor furrowed his brow as he opened his eyes, he had expected to either be dead or still outside waiting for a wild animal to finish him off, not in some tent. 

Sitting up, he was shocked to find how good he felt, his body was well-rested, free of any aches and sores. Rolling his shoulders he noted that the gash that had been giving him such grief was gone and his leg had healed.

Immediately, he started patting the rest of himself down, lifting up his tunic, searching for any bruises or cuts, but there wasn’t a single scratch on him. 

“What in the seven hells?” He muttered lowly. No healer in Westeros was this good or thorough, he should be dead…

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts, as the flap of the tent was drawn back and an older man with dark gray curls and sympathetic blue eyes stepped in. 

The stranger chuckled to himself. “It’s nice to see you awake,” he commented, with a smile. “Honestly, I can’t believe you survived.” 

Sandor grunted in response, “you and me both.”

The man sighed, crouching down. “I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he explained, with a shrug. “But you were so close to death, that even I doubted she could save you.”

Sandor’s eyes narrowed. “She who? Was this the work of some fucking witch?” He spat.

The man didn’t seem phased by Sandor’s aggression or accusation, actually having found it more entertaining than anything else. 

“I don’t think she’s a witch,” he answered truthfully. “But I’m no expert on the matter.” 

“So if you’re not the one who healed me, then who are you?” Sandor interrogated. 

“Name’s Ray,” the man introduced himself. “I’m the Septon here.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, “course you are.”

“My flock and I have decided to settle down here in these parts.”

“Where’s here?” 

The Septon smiled and gestured to the exit. 

Sandor cautiously got to his feet, standing upright without any pain. How the hell had he been fortunate enough for some magical healer to find and save him?

He grimaced at the thought, he wasn’t sure what to think of it, seemed too good to be true, so there had to be a catch, some bullshit about the Lord of Light or The Seven. 

Ray took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air as he took in the sight. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Sandor hummed half-heartedly, it was nothing special just hills, trees, same old shit he’s seen for months now since leaving King’s Landing. 

As they walked, Sandor noticed everyone hard at work, women cooking, men building, children running and playing. 

These people were the decent and simple sort, not the kind of people Sandor was accustomed to. People in the city were always looking for a way to screw each other over as a way to gain more power or gold. He had grown accustomed to being wary of strangers, never letting his guard down in King's Landing or while he's been on his own, it was all part of surviving in this world.

As the flock noticed him approaching, they kept their distance but were polite enough. 

“They’ll warm up to you if you give ‘em a chance,” Ray reassured. “Doubt they’ve ever seen anyone quite as intimidating as you.”

Sandor didn’t give two fucks, either way, they already treated him better than most people he’s encountered over his life. 

Suddenly, Sandor stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted a familiar face, he couldn’t believe she was real. 

The woman from his hallucinations was sitting alone, washing clothing in a small stream. Her face scrunched in concentration as she scrubbed the linen against the washboard. 

The Septon followed Sandor’s gaze and smiled, “that’s her, the one who healed you.”

Sandor nodded, swallowing thickly, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of her. 

“She’s a good woman, remarkably kind... and forgiving,” something about the Septon’s expression indicated that he knew rather well just how forgiving she was. 

“When we found you, I thought you were already dead and was ready to put you in the ground,” Ray recounted. “But she got down on her knees, and pressed her ear to your chest, and was able to hear the faint beating of your heart...insisted that we take you in.”

Almost as if she could sense the Septon speaking of her, her head turned in their direction. Her eyes lit up as she recognized her patient up and about. 

Forgetting about the laundry, she stood up and made her way towards them, stopping just a few feet from Sandor. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice soft and warm, a tone unfamiliar to Sandor as people rarely spoke to him before in such a manner. 

“Fine,” Sandor grunted, looking away. 

“I’m glad,” she smiled. “Never seen anyone in such bad shape before.”

“What can I say, I’m a big man and tough to kill.”

She laughed lightly, a genuine smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at him. “Do you have a name stranger?”

Sandor looked down, worried to reveal his identity, his reputation as The Hound preceded him. These were decent people who took him in, and they may not be too fond of having a murderer amongst them. 

“Sandor Clegane,” he finally answered.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she tilted her head. “I’m y/n l/n.”

Y/n, the name suited her, or at least Sandor thought so. 

“Well, I better finish the wash,” she muttered, looking back at the basket and clothes. She waved goodbye, her eyes meeting Sandor’s before she sauntered away. 

“Still think she’s a witch?” Ray teased.

It was odd to Sandor, neither y/n nor Ray behaved like the religious sort he had encountered in King’s Landing or anywhere else for that matter. Most of the ones he met acted like they were holier than the gods themselves, looking down at the common folk for living their lives, for just existing. 

The Hound quickly found his place amongst the community, Although he kept to himself, he worked harder than any other man and did whatever work was needed. 

He was breathing heavily, swinging the ax over and over again. The dull thwack of the ax splitting the wood was all he could hear.

These hills were quiet and peaceful, perhaps Ray was right and there was something beautiful about this place. Sandor hadn’t given it much thought, but it seemed that in comparison the city was cruel and chaotic and smelled like piss. 

Since sunrise, Sandor had been working without pause, not even stopping for lunch. Even while working he seemed to keep his distance from the others, and the only people who ever came around him were Ray and y/n. 

Hearing a twig snap behind him, Sandor, out of habit, swung around with the ax in hand, prepared to attack but immediately lowered it when he saw that it was y/n standing there. 

“For god sake woman, don’t you know better than to come sneaking up behind somebody?” He complained, gritting his teeth. “It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

Most people would shrink away from Sandor, especially after such an outburst, but y/n didn’t even flinch, and he was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop coming around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she laughed. 

Sandor scowled, “you didn’t scare me, but we might need to get you a bell or something, so I don’t kill you by accident.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I brought you some supper.” She held out the plate towards him. “Figured you were due for a break.” 

He nodded, setting the ax down before taking a seat on a nearby log. Y/n joined him, sitting by his side just a few inches of space between them.

Typically, Sandor wasn’t one for company, but he made an exception for her. She was different, didn’t avoid him, and always looked him in the eye, never shying away. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, especially not from a woman. 

Sandor had yet to figure out why y/n even bothered with him at all, why she brought him his meals and kept him company in the evenings, or why she even bothered to save his life.

“It’s a nice day,” she wondered out loud, admiring the sky. 

Sandor shrugged, focused more on his filling his belly than the weather. 

“Suppose we better enjoy while we can,” she noted, soon everything would be covered in a blanket of snow, that would last for years. 

She bit her lip, thinking about how she wouldn’t mind spending a long winter with Sandor, surely he’d be able to keep her warm during the long nights. 

A couple of men came rushing towards y/n and Sandor. “Lady y/n come quick,” one of them started. “Efran fell while working on top of the sept.”

“It looks real bad,” the other added.

She immediately got to her feet, lifting her skirts to keep up as Sandor followed. 

When they arrived, the group of people surrounding Efran parted allowing y/n through. 

The poor man was lying on the ground groaning, his leg was twisted and bone poking through. She crouched down beside him, then looked up. “We’re going to need to set the leg first. Someone hold him still please.”

Sandor stood behind the group, peering over their heads, he was curious to see just what y/n was capable of. 

The man howled in agony as they held him down and y/n straightened out his leg, popping the bone back into place. “That’s the worst of it,” she said, trying to comfort Efran. 

Laying her hand upon his leg, y/n closed her eyes, Sandor could’ve sworn that she was glowing, a gentle light emanating from her body. Several moments passed, all eyes were on her and everything was silent. 

As she opened her eyes and lifted her hand, the gash and bone had healed, looked as good as new. 

“Take him to his tent so he can rest,” y/n instructed, dusting off her skirts as she got off the ground. 

“So how are you able to… heal others?” Sandor asked bluntly, now that they were alone again. 

“Not sure,” she said, folding her arms. “I’ve never really been the religious type, I don’t pray or even know who or what to worship for that matter… Ray says it’s proof that there’s something, but I don’t have any answers.”

Y/n noticed the rough conditions of his hands, they were rugged and calloused from before, but she could see new blisters forming and small cuts all over his knuckles, most likely the result of all his hard work. 

Reaching out she took his hands in hers. Her thumbs gently caressing over his skin. A warmth began to spread from her touch to his skin. 

“Good night, Sandor,” she murmured, before letting loose of his healed hands. 

…

The morning was still young when the flock had gathered to listen to the Septon's sermon. 

When Ray started to speak, it wasn’t what Sandor expected. It wasn’t a lecture on sin or how the gods were judging them.

The Septon’s story hit a little too close to home for Sandor. He had always believed that the only thing he was good for was killing. For the king and for that shit Joffrey, he had committed horrible atrocities, he murdered an innocent child for gods' sakes. 

Sandor’s eyes flickered down to y/n who was sitting in front of him as he stood behind her. He wondered how much she knew about his past. Would she still be just as sweet and kind to him if she ever saw what he was capable of? 

Ray’s attention turned to y/n then Sandor, the older man couldn’t help but notice how Sandor looked at the healer of his flock. He recognized almost immediately how much he and the Hound had in common, and knew well what inner turmoils the man was struggling with. 

“I was hired as a sword for a pretty damn easy job,” he sighed continuing his story. “Just had to kill a woman. I didn’t care why didn’t even question it, Figured it was as good as done.”

Ray ran a hand through his hair. “On my travels to the small village she resided in, I was ambushed by some bandits, they robbed me blind and left me for dead out on that road. I thought this had to be it, they took my money, my horse, cut me open… and then things went dark until I woke up in a small hut.”

“The villagers had brought me to their healer, a young orphaned girl... when she introduced herself that’s when I realized that this girl was the one I was sent to kill.”

“You’d think I would’ve changed my mind right then, and leave her be,” the Septon shook his head a distant look in his eye. “But I had just lost everything, I needed that gold, or at least that’s the excuse I made.”

“I bided my time, gained the trust of the village before deciding to act,” Ray looked down at his clasped hands. “On that fateful night, I took a knife from the kitchen, and was fully prepared to slit her throat as she slept… but as I held it, pressing the sharp edge against her skin, it hit me about how I was taking something good from the world, and how goodness was so rare to find. Who knows how much goodness I had already taken from the world, what right did I have to take more?”

Y/n smiled at the Septon, encouraging him to finish their story. 

“For the first time in my life, I wanted to do the same to bring some goodness into the world, no more death, no more senseless violence… that wasn’t going to be my life anymore,” Ray wandered over to y/n, patting her shoulder. “Since then, I’ve changed my ways, and with the time I’ve got left, I plan to use it for good.”

Just as the Septon's lesson started to sink in for Sandor, three men on horses approached. 

Ray tried to appease them, but still, their presence made Sandor feel uneasy. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these men were up to no good. Stumbling upon this community was like finding an unguarded vault, supplies, food, women, all for the taking. 

Y/n joined Ray, a kind smile on her face as she tried to reason with them as well. 

It didn’t escape Sandor’s attention how the man in the yellow coat was eyeing y/n, the stranger's intentions were anything but good. 

Sandor’s fists clenched as they made eye contact, he should grab an ax or something and take care of them now. 

But Ray seemed to urge against it. 

“Do you really think they’ll come back?” Y/n asked once the three strangers had left. 

Sandor’s shoulders slumped, “Aye, to them this is easy pickings… unarmed common folk with plenty of supplies and food.”

Y/n wrung her hands nervously. “I see,” she mumbled, looking back at the tents, these were her friends, her family, this was meant to be a safe haven. For the last decade or so, she and Ray had worked hard towards their goal, they were so close to it now. 

Sighing, Sandor laid a hand over both of hers, “I’ll do what I can… just stay with me.”

She nodded, taking in a deep breath, “you’re a good man, Sandor.”

He shook his head, “I’m no such thing.”

“It’s a shame you don’t see it,” she said softly, now cradling his large hand in both of hers. “When I spotted you on that hill I saw so much potential, even covered in all that blood and dirt… the world needs you Sandor Clegane.”

For the rest of the day, y/n stayed by Sandor’s side, watching him work and helping when she could. 

Deep down Sandor hoped his instincts were wrong, that those men would simply move on but when a shrill scream shattered the peaceful silence, he already knew it was too late. 

Rage, as Sandor passed body after body, all he felt was rage. This community hadn’t done anything to deserve being slaughtered like this. They were innocent people, just trying to live their lives and do some good for the world. The monsters hadn’t spared anyone, not even the children. 

This once-peaceful place, the place he was considering to call home, had now been desecrated by a massacre, completely destroyed.

‘Nowhere is safe.’ This tragedy solidified these words in his heart. 

Sandor came to halt when the Septon came into view, feet dangling in the air as his body swung from the skeleton of the unfinished sept.

Y/n stumbled beside him, her sight blurred by tears, but it was her heart-wrenching cry when she saw the Septon  
that pulled Sandor from his stupor. 

She fell to her knees, face twisted in anguish as she wailed, she had never seen such horrors in her life. 

Grabbing her by the arm, Sandor yanked her to him, blocking her view of all the horrors that surrounded them, and wrapped his arms securely around her. 

She buried her face against his chest as he held her close. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she clutched him as tightly, all the strength in her legs had given out. 

As he comforted her, her pain only fueled his anger further, Sandor spotted an ax nearby, those fuckers were going to pay. He was going to hack them all to pieces.

He pulled away from her, his hands cupping her face, “we’re going after them, all of them.”

Stray tears fell from Y/n’s eyes and slid over Sandor’s hands. “Promise?” She whispered. 

...


End file.
